


Return to Oz

by Yung_Mofftiss (OnWednesdaysWeStudyinPink)



Series: Return to Oz [1]
Category: Fringe
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnWednesdaysWeStudyinPink/pseuds/Yung_Mofftiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A world where Walter is entirely sane, drugs are king, and Massive Dynamics rules the world. Return to Oz AU, drug AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return to Oz

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the song "Return to Oz" by Scissor Sisters. Death bingo prompt, "Accidental Overdose".

 

 

There are three of them, a trio. They are called the Golden Triangle, the three most powerful people in America and like Bill Gates, their names are known in every household.  
  
 _Walter Bishop._  
  
 _Nina Sharp._  
  
 _William Bell._  
  
Massive Dynamic controls almost anything you can think of: planes, trains, and automobiles; medicine, drugs, and bandages; people, places,  _things._  
  
Walter is easily the smartest of the three, his mind racing faster than a bullet train, billions of formulas and calculations filling his brain much like the explosion of a supernova. Over the years he’s become addicted to a slew of prescription sleep medications to keep his thoughts from overwhelming him. And he is a very possessive man; they are  _ **his**_  ideas, that is  _ **his**_  family, those are  _ **his**_  designs. He would rather destroy than share.  
  
Belly is the muscle, the man with the fingers skilled enough to build anything and everything ever imagined. Machines that take up entire city blocks, minute nanobots that are constructed from only a dozen molecules, his ability has made him feel like a god and he is a cruel one. People throughout the city go missing to entertain his need to watch suffering, though Belly manages to keep a straight face when he tells Walter it’s in the name of science.  
  
Nina is the face everyone recognises, the figurehead of Massive Dynamic. She uses the business as her temple and everyone is expected to bow down to the goddess that she is. Walter thinks she looks like Satan incarnate, her pearly white teeth, her iris’ the colour the sea takes before a typhoon’s devastating waves come crashing back to shore, her hair Titian.  
  
                                        “What do we do?” she asks.  
  
 _“What **don’t**  we do?”_ she breathes in reply.  
  
Belly laughs in triumph as they looks out over the city at dusk and the three toast to their empire.  
  


***** *** *** *****

  
All the way across town in a more unsavoury location is another trio; though their names are known by many, it certainly isn’t for saving the world.  
  
In the back room of Linxxx, Astrid adjusts the pink bow on the side of her panties—it’s key that the full ribbon looks just right, but releases at the exact moment she pulls on it while she hangs upside down on the pole. Her large eyes are lined with thick kohl and when she bats her lashes, the falsies make her look like she has butterfly wings on her eyelids. She pouts her lips and coats more butterscotch-flavoured lipgloss on, looking like a golden Venus. She imagines James’ voice as he announces her stepping out onto the catwalk, how she poses when he calls out her stage name.  _Aphrodite._  
  
Olivia, who wears nothing but a pair of crimson panties and matching bra as she stands next to Astrid, is studying her reflection in the well-lit mirror of the makeup counter. She carefully powders over her fading black eye, the only reminder of John, who is now buried somewhere in a Boston landfill after she ran him down; just because she takes her top off doesn’t mean she should be treated like trash.  
  
A dancer with the saddest eyes comes the room and sits down the counter from them; her name is Ginger and she’s been kind of depressed lately—her boyfriend Nick is a real bastard. Sometimes Astrid wonders if she’s suicidal, but it’s not really any of her business.  
  
“Peter’s here,” Ginger calls out softly to Astrid, counting a handful of tens and twenties that she’s pulled out of her g-string.  
  
“Cool,” Astrid says, pouting in the mirror for him.  
  
Olivia adds another layer of false lashes to her eyes. “Who’s Peter?”  
  
“He’s one of my regulars. He’s pretty cool—wanna meet him?  _Big tipper_ …” Astrid sings out the last part.  
  
Olivia’s a good friend and Astrid can see that she’s pondering how fair it would be to cut in on Astrid’s big catch, but finally she offers a timid smile and agrees. “Sure.”  
  
Satisfied with her appearance, she takes the blonde by the hand. “Don’t be shy. He’ll like you.”  
  
Olivia pulls out a small container from her purse and opens it to reveal a mound of light grey powder. Politely she offers it over to the petite black girl and Astrid scoops some out with her pinky nail. She snorts it in and Olivia does the same—the buzz will kick in later.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
“Ready ready!” Olivia answers enthusiastically.  
  
Peter is standing by the bar, watching a gorgeous brunette named Amy move her back slowly and sensually down a pole, one hand gripping the metal behind her while the other caresses her enormous breasts. As they approach him from behind, Astrid strokes a finger down Peter’s spine to catch his attention.  
  
“Hey, sailor—looking for a good time?”  
  
He looks like he wants to say something catty to her until Olivia catches his attention. “Well, well, well—who’s your pretty friend, Aphrodite?”  
  
“This is  _Liv_ ,” Astrid purrs, wrapping her arm around Olivia’s waist. “Like her?”  
  
Peter looks her up and down and a wolfish smile crosses his lips. “Very much.”  
  
“You want to take her along with us? She and I can really make it  _fun_ ,” Astrid promises.  
  
It appears as though nothing could make him happier. “If you want her to come, then I’m game.”  
  
A blonde named Tess comes over to them, carrying a tray with Peter’s usual drink and baring a sunny smile. “The VIP room is ready for you, Peter.”  
  
“I’m taking Aphrodite and Liv with me. Tell Broyles we want at least an hour.” He slips her a few hundreds. “And keep the Cristal coming.”  
  
The VIP room is a circular shut-door room, the centre featuring a round platform with a single pole and custom wraparound seating along the wall. The music in here is different than the rest of the club, set to Peter’s favourites on a continuous loop.  
  
Linxxx isn’t some cheap titty bar. Here they hire  _dancers_ , not strippers. There are no one dollar tips nor fives, just twenties, fifties, and hundreds. Patrons don’t get lap dances, they get  _experiences_. Astrid likes performing for Peter because he appreciates the subtle movements she adds, the attention to detail she puts in her work. As always, Peter wants to push everything as far as he can and he starts reaching out to touch them as they move against the pole.  
  
“You know the rules, Peter. Broyles’ll kill you if he sees you touching me,” she insists, moving her hips but staying out of his reach.  
  
“How could I resist you, though?” he moans, but sits back heavily against the cushions. “Fine, you make out with her and I’ll watch.”  
  
Astrid gets on her hands and knees to crawl over to Olivia who’s on her knees as well and gently takes her face in hers; Olivia’s lips are soft and their kiss starts gentle and tender because it’s between friends and she knows that Peter would like that. There is a momentary power struggle between the two of them to see who will take the lead; Astrid knows what Peter wants, but this is really more of Olivia’s specialty. In the end, Olivia takes over. The blonde is a good seven inches taller than her and Astrid moans as the other woman begins to possessively hold onto her.  
  
Peter watches them intently. “Damn, this is good.”  
  
“If you have any ice, it might be even better,” Olivia recommends.  
  
He shakes his head. “I’m out. And you know the boys at the front door don’t allow anyone to bring product in.”  
  
Astrid smiles playfully. “Don’t worry Peter—we’re still fun.”  
  
As Olivia starts to lay her on her back, the door opens; it’s Tess and another waitress with a bottle of Cristal in a bucket of ice, glasses, and a bowl of marchino cherries. Tess whispers something in Peter’s ear that makes him smile before she and the other waitress leave. Peter opens the champagne bottle and feeds a few of the cherries to Olivia; Astrid arches her back, letting her head tip backwards and she pouts at Peter.  
  
“Mmmm, give it to me,  _papi chulo_ ,” she purrs.  
  
Peter pours the champagne into her open mouth and Liv dips her head down, tasting of cherry as they both drink the alcohol. When their lips finally part, Astrid’s whole body feels warm and she gives a heady, satisfied moan as Olivia slowly works her way between her legs, licking and biting at her skin in a zealous way. The meth has effected her libido—and obviously Olivia’s as well—and she tangles her fingers into the long blonde hair.  
  
Ten minutes pass, the heavy throb of the music and Astrid’s mewls as slender fingers caress the inside of her thighs and Olivia nuzzles her through the cloth before Peter’s had enough and has Olivia back off. Astrid pants as Peter carries her over to the seating, sitting back so that she straddles his lap. Olivia languidly moves around the pole, eating the maraschino cherries as she closes her eyes, her head tipping to the rhythm of the music.  
  
“You know, I really missed you while I was out,” he mumbles against her neck as he unties the halter string of her gold top.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“A lot,” he admits as he unties the second string to remove her top completely.  
  
“Oh Peter,” she sighs, wanting to feel his hands everywhere.  
  
“Come away with me tonight,” he whispers adoringly.  
  
“I dunno, Peter. I’m a bad girl but I’m not a stupid one,” she teases.  
  
“No one said you were,” he murmurs, giving her a look of devotion.  
  
She finds herself blushing and she can feel how much he wants her. “C’mon, baby; let me  _worship_  you.”  
  
The club erupts in screams and the three pause in their movements. The music stops and Astrid climbs off Peter’s lap to peek out the out of the VIP room’s door. Amy’s making a run for the front door with a feather boa covering her bare breasts and Astrid grabs onto the woman’s arm.  
  
“What’s going on?” she asks as Amy glances back over her shoulder.  
  
“Ginger’s boyfriend just slit her throat!” Amy cries and Astrid lets her go.  
  
Astrid and Olivia watch the chaos curiously, the meth having hampered their natural flight or fight response. Thankfully Peter can think for them.  
  
“C’mon!” Peter orders, grabbing her roughly by the wrist.  
  
She’s practically naked but she takes Olivia by the hand as well; there’s gunfire and both women are being dragged by Peter quickly out a side door in their six inch heels—it’s truly a miracle neither of them twist their ankles. They run though the cold night air across the parking lot, avoiding patrons’ cars speeding away from the club.  
  
Peter unlocks his large SUV and opens the backseat, ushering them inside. “Get in! Get in!”  
  
“My purse!” Olivia cries as she tries to get around Astrid to exit the vehicle.  
  
“Leave it!” Peter shouts, trying to keep her inside as well.  
  
“It’s got my only pictures of my sister and my niece—“ she pleads.  
  
“Fine! Shut up and keep your head down!” He shuts the door and starts to run towards Linxxx before returning. “What does your purse look like?”  
  
“It’s with my shit,” Astrid says, knowing that he’ll recogise her belongings. “Be careful!”  
  
He goes back into the club and returns five minutes later, clutching not only Olivia’s stuff, but Astrid’s as well, tossing it into the backseat.  
  
“You damn women and your shit!” Peter grouses as he starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.  
  
“Our  _hero_ ,” Astrid sneers as she starts to put her cardigan on.  
  
“Damn right ‘ _your hero_ ’,” he snaps.  
  
“Where are we going?” Olivia asks nervously.  
  
He glances back in the rearview mirror. “Back to Astrid’s place. I was hanging out at Linxxx because I’m trying to lay low for a while.”  
  
Astrid raises an eyebrow. “Eddie?”  
  
“Stupid fuck. He thinks I was the one who screwed him over,” he grumbles.  
  
Olivia glances over at her cautiously. “Should we…?”  
  
Astrid nods her head reassuringly. “He’s cool. He’s stayed with me before.”  
  
“I just don’t want…”  
  
Astrid can understand her friend’s wariness. “Peter’s an asshole, but underneath it all he’s really a gentleman.”  
  
“Thank you, Astrid. Your high opinion of me really means a lot,” he says sarcastically.  
  
She scowls at him. “You don’t have to be a shit about it, Peter. I’m paying you a  _compliment_.”  
  
Obviously trusting Astrid’s opinion, Olivia pulls out the small box of blow and leans into the front seat, offering a pinky nail of the meth. “Want some? It’s pretty good quality.”  
  
“Sure.” He lowers his head for a moment and seals one nostril to inhale everything. He jerks his head back, eyes wide. “Shit! Where did you get this stuff?”  
  
Liv sits back and puts the little box away. “My…ex-boyfriend used to deal. He was hooked up with some pretty good stuff.”  
  
Astrid crawls across the front seat consol to join Peter in the front seat, dragging a pair of sweatpants along with her. “Hey, if you’re trying to lay low, where did you want me to run off to with you?”  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably one of my hideaways.”  
  
“You mean the ones Eddie knows about?” she says sarcastically.  
  
“Shut  _up_.”  
  
“Peter, you’re so  _stupid_  sometimes,” she says fondly.  
  
“That’s why you love me,” he says with a boyish smile.  
  
“I love you because of this big guy,” she says reaching for his crotch and fondles the leather wallet in his pocket.  
  
He smirks and shakes his head in amusement.  
  
“So what do you do for a living?” Olivia asks.  
  
He smirks. “Keep girls like you working hard.”  
  
Astrid snorts and rolls her eyes. “Peter’s got a rich daddy.”  
  
This perks the blonde’s interest. “Trust fund baby?”  
  
Astrid gives her a wolfish grin. “No, like, his dad is  _Walter Bishop_.”  
  
Olivia’s pale eyes become large and she pauses in putting her pants on. “You’re  _shitting_  me.”  
  
“Astrid,” he growls in a warning tone—he’s never liked that secret being known.  
  
Astrid rolls her eyes and puts a comforting hand on his arm. “She’s cool, Peter. Trust me. Liv and I have been besties for, like, four years now. I’d trust her with my  _life_.”  
  
He’s still suspicious. “I’ll trust her when I know her real name.”  
  
“Olivia.”  
  
“Seriously? You couldn’t come up with something more creative than Liv’?”  
  
“Peter, shut up,” Astrid snaps in defense of her friend.  
  
Olivia still seems to be getting over the initial shock of Peter’s identity. “Your dad is Walter Bishop? Why aren’t you working for Massive Dynamic?”  
  
Peter’s irritation is redirected. “Massive Dynamic is the devil!”  
  
“Here we go,” Astrid mutters, sitting back in her seat.  
  
“I’m serious, Astrid!” Peter starts to sound like one of those tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy nuts that live in the hobo jungle down by the old railway station. “Did you know that Massive Dynamic has monopolized almost everything in the US? Everything you buy—even the generic brands—is made by them. They’re slowly tightening their chokehold on America. They create consumer addictions, forcing you to rely on them. They make the decisions between life and death! And here’s something not many people know: Massive Dynamic has a policy to give bad prescriptions to the homeless so that they get sick and die. They’re secretly trying to clean up the streets.”  
  
“Massive Dynamic was  **also**  on the grassy knoll,” Astrid mocks.  
  
He glares at her. “Fuck you, Astrid. I’m not kidding. Massive Dynamic doesn’t mess around.”  
  
“But if they have that much power, why don’t you take advantage of it? Make things comfortable for yourself,” the blonde in the backseat asks.  
  
“It’s about principles, Olivia,” he explains. “I’m not letting anyone own me. Are you going to let anyone own you?”  
  
Olivia touches the faint halo around her eye. “ _No_.”  
  
They arrive at Astrid’s home in the depths of a nasty part of town, one that people don’t visit without a reason and protection—the only reason they know Peter’s nice SUV won’t get jacked is because people know who it belongs to.  
  
Astrid unlocks the door to her small flat on the third floor and the three push inside. Olivia’s been staying with her for about a week since she killed John, so her clothes are strewn around the floor along with fast food wrappers and empty cans of energy drinks. Peter doesn’t seem to mind the place is a mess—he’s here for her. Astrid sits on the mattress on the floor while Peter finds nibbles in a half-empty chip bag.  
  
She could easily afford a nicer place, but her habits are expensive and after her rent is secure, every penny goes in her veins or up her nose.  
  
“Wanna try some serious shit?” she asks Peter, wanting to make her friend and occasional lover feel welcome.  
  
He tosses the bag of chips back on the ground. “What is it?”  
  
“It’s called Cortexiphan. It’s a methamphetamine derivative.” Astrid knows her science when it comes to better living through chemistry.  
  
“Where did you get it?” he asks, looking at the box she’s pulled out from a hidey-hole behind the tv.  
  
“It’s new. I bought it from the Wind-Up Man.” She opens the plastic box to reveal three needles, sour apple green liquid filling the cool glass.  
  
Peter frowns, still studying the liquid in the syringe. “I don’t know him.”  
  
“He sells the most hardcore shit you can imagine.” Olivia sits down on the bed next to him“I took some poppers he gave me and let me tell you! I was soaring like a fucking eagle for a week!”  
  
Peter bites the inside of his cheek. “What does this stuff do? I only like uppers.”  
  
Astrid shrugs—she’d been talking on her prepaid phone when she’d bought them. “He says it’s like nothing on the market.”  
  
Peter rubs his hands together and eyes the drugs hungrily. “Well, shall we?”  
  
“Shit,” Olivia comments as they see one of the needles is only half-full.  
  
Astrid quickly grabs it. “It’s okay, I’ll take the smaller one. I’d hate to be a bad hostess.”  
  
She knows she’ll have to spackle on her concealer to hide this track mark, but who knows when she’ll have to go to work again? A murder will keep the club closed for at least a day, which means she’ll have the luxury of enjoying the two very attractive people in the bed with her…  
  
“Oh wow,” Olivia whispers as the drugs start to take hold.  
  
“I like this,” Astrid admits giddily, the room exploding in a white glow.  
  
Peter starts removing his clothes, wetting his lips. “Both of you. I want both of you.”  
  
“Careful, Eager Peter. We’re not going anywhere,” Astrid promises as she and Olivia begin to strip.  
  
The world spirals as they begin to indulge in their needs, wants, and addictions.  
  


***** *** *** *****

  
It’s three in the morning and Walter awakens to the sound of his cellphone buzzing on the coffee table; he’d fallen asleep on the couch in his house and there’s a slight crick in his neck as he answers it.  
  
Nina doesn’t say hello. “Walter, I’ve found him.”  
  
At this, the haze of sleepiness disappears. “You have?”  
  
“Yes and you’re not going to like it,” she says, her voice grim.  
  
“Just tell me,” he sighs, entirely irritated.  
  
They are on a never-ending race for immortality and they require the only biological heir of the Massive Dynamic triad as the first part of their master plan. For almost three years the three had been developing Project ZFT Stem cells. Zeus the father god, Frigg the goddess of death and fertility, and Telesphorus the recoverer from illness. Nina’s waited too long to have children and Belly’d never wanted them in the first place.  
  
He takes a taxi to the address Nina gives him, a part of Boston that is less than desirable.  
  
He spots the room’s only living occupant, a dead-eyed Lolita, sucking on her lollypop between to the two bodies that are just starting to leave rigor mortis. Wrapped in a bed sheet, she watches him with disinterest as he hurries to his son and he pulls out a penlight to check his son’s eyes. He’d missed him by a matter of hours—damn his son and his stupid drug habit! Though he can’t help but appreciate the delicious irony that his son loved the things Walter so carefully created.  
  
“You must be Peter's dad,” she comments as she plays with his hair, touches softer than butterfly kisses.  
  
“How did you know?” he murmurs absentmindedly, lifting the blonde’s eyelid with one finger so his pocket flashlight can inspect the browning cornea.  
  
“You both have the same eyes,” she says nonchalantly and Walter remembers that Peter was once like him.  
  
“How long has he been like this?”  
  
“I dunno.” She seems completely unfazed by the slight smell of putrification in the room. “I want to watch Spongebob.”  
  
The tv screen is a blizzard of static, the gentle roar of the white noise sad and comforting.  
  
“Must have been a bad batch,” he assesses and puts away his pen light. “What did they take?”  
  
She frowns, seemingly confused until he retrieves an empty needle off the milk crate serving as a nightstand. “Cortexiphan.”  
  
“Cortexi—how did you—where—“ he stutters, but gives an exhausted huff. “Oh, I suppose it really doesn’t matter.”  
  
He flips open his cellphone, dialing up Sharp because he knows she’s most likely sitting by the phone waiting.  
  
“Nina.” He looks down at his son’s dead body. “The Cortexiphan’s entered the market and you were right—it really will clean up the streets.”  
  
“I bought it from the Wind-Up Man,” she mumbles before sucking on the lollipop once more.  
  
Walter frowns. “This girl says she bought it from the Wind-Up Man.”  
  
“Did she take it?” Nina asks impatiently, obviously afraid that the nasty little secret of the drug’s fatality will be told.  
  
Walter can tell this isn’t going to be something to worry about. “Her mind is fried. I don’t think she even knows where she is.”  
  
“Well, the cops are on the way, so maybe you should get out,” she says gently, obviously upset of the loss of Peter—not the person, but the body.  
  
Walter hangs up and looks at the drugged out girl. “Nina’s called the cops, so maybe you should leave.”  
  
Her small, skeletal hand grabs onto his sleeve. “You want to be my daddy, Walter Bishop? I don't have anywhere to go.”  
  
He looks at her (her large doe eyes are still watching Peter’s body) and doesn’t see a coked-out drug fiend, but a little girl who’s lost. He sighs, pushing stale air out of his lungs.  
  
“You’ll have to behave.”  
  
She nods and cocks her head to look at him, causing her curls to fall across her forehead. “I can do that.”  
  
“No drugs,” he says firmly, wanting to make sure she understands what he requires.  
  
“Yeah,” she agrees.  
  
“All right, come on,” he agrees.  
  
“What about Peter ‘n Liv?” she asks, touching the blonde’s pallid thigh.  
  
“We have to leave them. When the police call me to identify the bodies, we can pick them up,” he explains.  
  
She blinks. “What bodies?”  
  
She’s still wrapped in the dirty bed sheet, so he strips her out of that and finds a long coat tossed on the floor for her to put on. “Come along, young lady. Let’s get you cleaned up.”  
  
He finds red sequined slippers that could only fit feet as small as hers and has her slip them on her feet.  
  
“Are you a doctor?” she asks quietly and he realises he’s still wearing his labcoat.  
  
He helps her stand up. “Yes.”  
  
“I like doctors. They have money,” she whispers in his ear, one of her hands trying to slip down the front of his trousers.  
  
He tries to ignore her, instead hoisting her off the bed and grabbing the used needles gingerly and putting them in an empty water bottle which he slips in his lab coat pocket—leaving evidence behind would be dreadful. Down the stairs and out the front door of this hellhole, she spots a man leaning against an SUV that could only belong to Peter, it’s much too nice to belong to the trash here.  
  
“Wind-Up Man!” she hisses with reverence.  
  
Walter shakes the girl slightly to shut her up and September tips his hat up slightly, nodding his head towards the north.  
  
“Nina said the cops are coming. I’ll wait until you two are clear, then I’ll make a break for it.” He eyes the girl with the ruby slippers warily. “You gotta hold on her?”  
  
Walter supports the young woman with a firm grasp of her upper arm. “She’s good.”  
  
“She certainly is,” September says lowly. “Need the keys to my car?”  
  
Walter realises that taking a cab to an undesirable part of town might not have been the best idea and happily accepts the keys. “That would be helpful. I’ll leave it in the parking garage, second level.”  
  
There are sirens in the distance and Walter hurries the young woman to the car while September disappears into the shadows of the neighborhood.

***** *** *** *****

  
Astrid is swaying her body to the music playing on the record player in his office, standing on top of his glass desk while he sits comfortably in his chair and watches her. Her eyes are closed and she seems lost in her own world, her hands caressing her bare skin (her dress is on the floor). Walter loves what certain chemicals do to women and this private show is definitely the kind of break he’s needed from the work he’s been doing. He sips from the cut crystal that he’s poured his brandy in, a slight smile starting to curl its way across his lips and the fingers of his right hand tap quietly on the armrest along with the beat of Al Green.  
  
Sometimes he feels so positively evil when he manages to take advantage of a situation, but oh how he loves being powerful and in control.  
  
The door to his office opens and Belly walks in, a somewhat amused smile on his own lips. “Interrupting anything?”  
  
“Want to watch? She did it professionally,” Walter comments, gesturing to the free chair in front of his desk.  
  
Belly goes over to the office’s liquor cabinet hidden in the wall. “What are you drinking?”  
  
Walter lifts his glass. “Brandy.”  
  
Drink in hand, Belly comes to the desk, moving around to Walter’s side to study the beautiful young woman.  
  
“What’s your name, sweetie?” Belly asks with a kind smile, his long slender fingers tracing over her caramel thighs; Walter can tell just from the way he’s looking at her that he has at least a dozen horrible, abusive things he wants to do to her, which means he’ll have to remind Belly that she is  _his_.  
  
“Asssssssperin,” she slurs out.  
  
“No, it isn’t,” Walter says, keeping a straight face.  
  
At this her large eyes open, empty abysses of dark brown. “Aspen.”  
  
He shakes his head and she tries again, Belly’s fingers touching the inside of her leg to make her shiver. “Asparagus.”  
  
The door to his office opens yet again, this time Nina being the person entering. “Is she almost ready?”  
  
“I’d say so. I know I am,” Walter comments, wanting to see her uncomfortable.  
  
Nina looks utterly disgusted at the way he and Belly are reacting to the gyrations of “You know, Walter, there are far more scientific ways of collecting a DNA sample.”  
  
He and Belly laugh. “What are you talking about, Nina? This is science at its best.”  
  
“I can’t argue that,” Belly agrees.  
  
“Well, my eggs have been harvested and they’re waiting in the lab.” Nina gives them a curt smile and hands them two sterile specimen cups. “Just make sure it ends up in here and not in her mouth.”  
  
She leaves the office, muttering under her breath as the stripper removes her bra.  
  
By the end of the hour, Astrid is strapped down to a table, caught in an eternal slumber of a medically induced coma. Walter thinks her face looks peaceful, her womb soon to cradle three embryonic clones of the Massive Dynamic founders. The team of scientists assigned to the project begin to ready her body. Despite being one of the lowly druggies Massive Dynamic has strived to eliminate, this girl is otherwise healthy enough to be of some actual use. And it’s not as though as anyone will miss a whore.  
  
Peter’s death means plans had to be changed and altered, but it’s all coming about, so it doesn’t truly matter.  
  
Nina’s harvested eggs are carefully being prepped to remove any defects and undesirable attributes, just as the semen samples are carefully being screened and selected for the ideal candidates to hold the perfected DNA. The actual DNA samples composed of unsophisticated cheek cells have been genetically manipulated so that Belly’s asthma will no longer exist, nor Nina’s sensitivities to chemicals…ideal versions of themselves. Nina’s eggs will hold her own DNA, while artificial eggs will be inseminated with the men’s samples collected this afternoon.  
  
Walter leaves the laboratory to join the other two to his trio, butterflies in his stomach at the prospects of what it being done. They stand on the balcony, gazing across the city to the east where the blinding sun is setting on the horizon. The wind at this height whips Nina’s hair around and Walter shades his eyes as he looks at his companions. They shall live forever, eternal, their minds and memories transferred into incarnate after incarnate of themselves.  
  
Belly raises a glass of champagne, of success. “To us. To the future.”


End file.
